the garden

Beg you listen me, don't be kissing me 'til i'm done
Unsung champion, reason, like seasoning
Pepper your thoughts with spice, and entice you to a space
Where i dwell with bass players and layers and loops
Think what i think with my prayers. it's nice. my world is everything i've become
Contained in the hum between voice and drum
I'm coming from the same place i 'm still running from
But even sitting in the garden one can still get stung